The Ghost of You
by asomyrcal
Summary: Complete: One-Shot - Sometimes you just can't let go of your personal ghosts. AU-ISH, implications.


**Title**: The Ghost of You**  
Fandom**: 07-Ghost**  
Pairing(s)**: Vaguely-there Hyuuga x Ayanami if you squint.**  
Warnings**: - (warnings technically will spoil the whole fic...)

**Synopsis**: Sometimes you just can't let go of your personal ghosts.

"Aya-tan's working again?"

There is only silence, only the vague echo of a pen scratching across paper, the usual heaviness that usually envelopes the office when they're alone. For a moment Hyuuga wonders why he doesn't hear that man's admonishing voice.

Then he remembers, of course, that voice shouldn't... no.

The memory is almost painful, and for a moment those fingers encased in snow-white gloves curled into a tight grip. He lets out a breath, leaning against the chair, seeking solace in the weight that presses against his back and the man who should be there.

"You shouldn't be here."

His tone is flat, expressionless like the man himself.

Hyuuga's lips curl into a slight smile, a genuine one unlike the Cheshire-cat grins that frequently lingers on his features. A soft chuckle slips from his lips as the swordsman finally straightens up, swiping a stack of paper from the desk as he does so.

"You shouldn't be chasing old ghosts, Aya-tan."

The man is silent for a moment, before setting the pen down with a light click, shutting the file he had been working on. He makes no move to retrieve the papers from his subordinate, and the silence hangs between them, heavy and thick, almost unnatural and awkward for a man who has always been overly chatty with his superior.

"It's none of your concern, Hyuuga."

There's no mistaking the sharpness in his tone, and behind him Hyuuga merely chuckles again, callused fingers thumbing through the papers he had swiped from the desk. If he could have his way, he would have folded a paper aircraft to carry all those memories away...

A sharp knock jolts both men out of their disjointed reverie, violet and crimson coming to rest on the heavy rosewood door separating the office from the outside world. Someone has come to break the solitude they share, and it makes the silver-haired man at the desk smile ever the slightest.

"You should go."

Hyuuga turns to look at his superior, somewhat confused by the serene expression that rarely graces the man's pale features and the gentle tone of his words. Ayanami has never had that gentle tone in his voice, no...

The door slams opens, letting in a storm in the form of a young blonde, a scowl etched on his face and folders in his arms.

"Major! You really shouldn't-"

The boy pauses at the sight of Hyuuga leaning against the Chief of Staff's vacant chair, a crumpled paper in his clenched fist, words fading to a quiet whisper.

Crimson lifts to meet reflected violet, those gentle words echoing in his mind.

"You're right. I should go."

His words are soft, whispered to the ghost of a man no longer there.

"Major..."

This time, Hyuuga turns to face Konatsu, letting the crumpled paper drop onto an empty desk, eyes carefully hidden behind dark glasses. Within seconds the cheerful grin is back on his face, and the man hops over to join his Beigleiter, a casual arm draped across the boy's shoulders. But there is a weight that is tied to his heart, a burden of a old memory that he now carries. What irony, he had once told that man to stop chasing the shadows of old ghosts, yet now he too does the same.

Behind them is a fleeting glance of violet, and then the door shuts with a quiet click.

–

Year 2146.

Twenty-five years after the fall of the Raggs Kingdom, the Black Hawks were deployed on a classified high-risk mission. There were only two soldiers who returned.

Chief of Staff Ayanami was not amongst them.

**END**

A/N: This is really a 'take it how you will' thing, if anyone's going to ask what his 'status' is. Considering he can't exactly be killed (what, he had half his body blown off and he's still alive), well if I were to say, it'd be 'MIA'. Meaning wounded with no ability to return, or choosing not to return, or gotten involved with the Ghosts. Whichever, really.

Ah plotholes. I hate you.


End file.
